


Sky storms

by mysteriol



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Final Fantasy VII Remake Spoilers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriol/pseuds/mysteriol
Summary: She hates the open sky, but it’s really the thunder that scares her the most. Might explain why she shows up at his door tonight when it storms. [ Cloud x Aerith, post-Remake ]“You…can’t sleep so you’re standing outside my door?”“Are you teasing me, Mister Merc? At two in the morning, really?”
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 21
Kudos: 148





	Sky storms

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: 
> 
> Long fic ..but I promise there will be fluff… EEEKS 
> 
> Set post-remake, before defeat of Sephiroth, after you meet the rest of the gang. Hence possible canon-divergence.  
> No beta-read, imma lazy yadda.. you know the gist. 
> 
> Myst-san

Outside of Midgar, the world looks different.

The first thing Aerith notices is that the sky is never the same color. There are fifty shades of pink at sunset, and by night, it’s as if by word of a silent contract, the colors have traded places with a billion hues of luminescent midnight blue that make up the vast, open expanse above. Aerith gradually finds herself getting used to the ever-changing variant of colors – from growing up under a monochrome steel sky to these myriad patterns of clouds and moon and stars. 

Growing up in a lab with the Turks and only the colorful walls as company, she’s awed and intimidated at the size of the world at her feet. She’s thankful she never has to spend the nights alone - that what little Gil they have in the party they’re spending it in cramped small spaces so they’re all in one room, together.

Aerith actually likes that – a lot. It’s the only time in her life she’s surrounded by comfort and people, and not strangers who want to prick her skin with needles and testing wires.

But somewhere along their journey as the crop of their Gil grows at the expense of their exhaustion on their battlefields, it seems they can finally afford to move out of sleeping under the stars or in claustrophobic, dingy inn rooms, into their own spaces in well-established hotels.

Honestly, Aerith finds herself missing falling asleep in crowded spaces with the group.

In her own bedroom, despite the comfort of her duvet and blankets, she finds herself leaving a lamp on every night. The still air at night crawls under her skin; scares her. Everything’s too silent.

She curls often into a fetal position, clutching hard at the blankets to her neck, almost wishing someone – anyone – is sleeping next to her. Just so she’s not alone anymore, unlike her childhood days growing up in the lab when she’s usually surrounded by IV drips and electric kits that beep non-stop next to her ears.

She misses Barret’s loud snores, the sounds of Nanaki scratching his paws against the hard floor, Cid and Yuffie arguing about who gets to use the shower first and doing their utmost to provoke each other intentionally with strings of curse words. Tifa’s always the last to say a quiet but affectionate ‘good night’ to everyone before she turns off the light. Then there’s the sound of Vincent being grumpy about bed times – he ‘hns’ and single-syllables his way out of retiring to bed early because he’s a vampire and a nocturnal owl through and through. Yuffie ends up yelling at him for disrupting everyone’s else sleep. The lights go off.

And then...there’ll always be their leader in the pack, taking it all in, with his back against the wall, eyes shut, as if completely submitting to the exhaustion in his bones. He cannot be bothered to argue with any member in the room, so he just lets Tifa assert her motherly persona over all of them to shut them up them before bedtime.

All this…Aerith finds herself missing now.

Of course, having her own room is nice. Everybody misses their own space – and when they finally find their finances are allowing them to room individually, no one denies themselves the privilege of much needed me-time.

Nobody says it, but everyone kind of misses being cramped sleeping together.

Especially Aerith.

Tonight’s exceptionally hard. The sky looks more ominous than usual; clouds are gathering thick, and the heavens look ready to pelt rain any hour. Aerith knows she’s truly scared of the open sky. She hates the rain. The sound of water - she hates that.

The rain reminds her of the day she’s lost her Mom by the train station. The rain reminds her of endless nights where Reno and Rude show up soaked through their suits and hair drenched to take her back to Shinra. The rain reminds her of Tseng’s cold smile as his silhouette appears amid endless sky droplets to take her away. Rain reminds her of gushing cylinders filled to the brim with water as they inject her with plentiful of strange liquids back in the lab, of the buckets of ice water the scientists put her mom and the other specimens in when they refuse to cooperate.

Water, rain – she hates all of those elements. She gets lost in those dreams again of endless water drowning her. She’s suffocating.

It’s nearly one in the morning when she touches her bare feet to the ground. She puts on her bed slippers – there are fluffy white rabbits on the front design that Yuffie’s got for her from Wutai, and Aerith’s worn them to bed ever since as if it helps her sleep better - and looks out of the hotel windows. She touches a finger against the windowpane and rubs her tired eyes in resignation. She doesn’t expect to sleep on stormy nights, and today’s no exception.

She shuffles her way to the door and peeks out. The corridor’s quiet, and she knows all of them are probably tucked into bed, savoring the rare instances they have a night to themselves. They don’t have strange aversion to nights like these, unlike her. She knows disturbing them will do them more harm than good. She doesn’t want to be a burden.

She passes by their leader’s room. The door is shut, and she’s half tempted to knock. Perhaps he’s awake?

She highly doubts it – she’s seen how their leader had nearly tumbled and crashed into the corridor earlier with Cid and Vincent pressing bandages against his chest by his side, and Barret having to mend him up quickly with a few potions. He’s probably worn out and knocked out in bed by now. Encountering Behemoths on the outskirts can ruin an otherwise perfect day for any of them. Sometimes it just takes bad luck, and wrong timing – but nothing a team member can’t resolve with a quick Phoenix down and shoving of said unlucky person to bed for a good night’s rest.

“##^&@*^&*, Next time, Spike, don’t be an idiot and wander outside on your own!” Cid had bellowed into Cloud’s room before tossing the guy onto his bed, shutting the door after him to leave their spikey-haired leader to his own devices.

Aerith now stands outside the door, eyes simply content to watch the hardwood. She sincerely hopes he’s okay. She knows their leader is undoubtedly stronger than them; that surely he can take care of himself, but she still can’t help the worry in her eyes as she lifts her knuckles and contemplates knocking to check on him.

Lightning flashes at this opportune time. Aerith winces, and her hands immediately goes to her ears, trying to frantically shut out the imminent noises she knows will come next.

Thunder strikes. Aerith shuts her eyes and waits for it all to pass.

_Go away, go away._

She’s concentrating so hard on shutting the storm out, she doesn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open, revealing the utterly confused look on Cloud’s face as he stares in a startle at the visitor outside his door.

“A-Aerith?” His voice is low, soft. It’s as if he can’t believe his eyes – in the midst of the night, no, morning now, it must be – she’s standing right in front of him.

He notices her standing strangely, eyes closed, hands to her ears.

_What in Gaia is she doing??_

He notices instantly she’s wearing only a plain white night slip dress, hanging no longer than her knees. The moonlight behind her bounces off the thin straps against the ivory pale of her shoulders, sifting through enough to illuminate her heart-shaped face. He takes all of her in, in a matter of nanoseconds, and he cannot rationalize the skip of his heart. The mental punch to his chest - he doesn’t see it coming, either. 

So his eyes simply settle on her fluffy white rabbit bed slippers, and despite this strange circumstance he finds himself, a small smile spill on his lips. He remembers nights watching her putting the slippers on like routine before she retires to bed. He knows how much she loves them, props to Yuffie for that.

She still doesn’t seem to have sensed him alert by the door, at all.

Her eyes remain shut, and he’s sure time has frozen to eternity – so he can remain still and watch her like this in her purity.

Then just as quickly as the seconds pass, there is the flash of lightning, and then thunder.

Aerith jumps in front of him, her eyes flickering open. Her hands never leave her ears – she’s jamming her fingers into them so hard.

Cloud sees fear in her eyes. She’s s _cared._

“Aerith, are you okay?” He immediately grabs her wrist before he can think his actions through. He’s known the flower girl long enough to know she radiates everything bright and optimistic – she’s literally a ray of sunshine that showers them all with hope and life day in and out. The party literally thrives on her faith and kindness and all goodness that she emanates from her soul. So it throws him off when it’s the first time he’s seen her this way…

Vulnerable, scared, _frightened._

Something swims into his chest, and he feels the explosive urge to jump in front of her and obliterate whatever evil forces that are making her feel this way. Cloud always justifies his overprotectiveness towards the flower girl on the pretext that he’s her bodyguard. (He tends to ignore the little voice at the back of his head telling him perhaps there’s another reason.) Thinking about his feelings sometimes hurt his brains, so he doesn’t brood on the matter.

“Oh, sorry, Cloud,” she apologizes, shaking her head, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Cloud furrows his eyebrows, “Why are you standing at my door, Aerith? It’s one in the morning. No, nearly two.” He doesn’t let go of her wrist. He needs her to explain why she’s up, and why she’s walking the corridors in the dark, and why she’s standing…waiting outside his door.

If he hadn’t thought he heard footsteps shuffling outside his door and opened the door based on his honed instincts, he wouldn’t have known Aerith was standing there, looking as if she wasn’t even going to knock.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” She asks, her eyes looking sincerely apologetic.

Cloud softens immediately. The exhaustion around her emerald eyes are not lost on him. The sight of them sends a tremor to his chest, clenches something there.

“No. You okay?” He lets his tone drop. He hopes he doesn’t sound too stern this time. He hopes he hasn’t scared her. He knows how Yuffie is always yelling at him for being too strict and scary. He hopes Aerith doesn’t perceive him this way.

She nods her head, imperceptibly. Lightning flashes across the corridor, and she jumps again. Her hands shoot to her ears.

Something akin to tenderness seeps into Cloud’s eyes. “Can’t sleep?” He asks. He doesn’t know if he’s whispering because he doesn’t want to wake the others, or because he’s being gentle with her.

“Yeah…” She offers a sheepish smile, then shuts her eyes to let the moment of thunder striking above the ceiling pass.

It hits him fully that the storm is keeping her up. He remembers how much she hates the sky. Probably hates the rain and storm, too. Pretty obvious at this point.

“You…can’t sleep so you’re standing outside my door...to achieve something?” He can’t help but ask.

Aerith pretends to pout, “Are you teasing me, Mister Merc? At two in the morning, really?”

Cloud has to hide his smirk behind the darkness, “Well, it’s not every day I get a midnight visitor.”

She sighs, “I wasn’t going to wake you, Cloud.”

_Then why are you standing outside my room?_

He notices her eyes fall onto his chest, and he forgets to breathe. His knees nearly give way when her palms press against the fabric of his shirt, her fingers burning holes where they touch. He’s pretty sure she hears him sucking in his breath.

“Are you hurt?” She looks at him, concern clouding her eyes. “I saw the boys tossing you into your room earlier. You had bandages all over you.”

Cloud shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Just a nasty Behemoth. I’ll be fine by the morning.”

She arches a hesitant eyebrow, “Mind if I look at it?”

Cloud’s heart stopped. _What?_

“Neither Cid nor Barret are the best with bandages, you know. You’re forgetting your best healer in the team,” Aerith’s eyes are alight with mirth now as she gestures to herself, “Me.”

Cloud pretends to huff, “I’ll be fine.”

And before he knows it, Aerith is giving him a light push into his bedroom so she can check on him. Honestly, Cloud doesn’t think he’s resisting at all. He’s drawn to the flower girl like bees to honey. 

Aerith switches on a small lamp by the bedside and gestures for Cloud to sit. He’s thanking the stars for the darkness so she can’t actually see him blush shades of crimson in front of her as he does as he is told. Aerith can be so bossy, he thinks silently, but gives in anyway. She’ll ask him to jump, and he’ll end up doing so without even wondering why.

He sits on the edge of the bed, and he tries to distract himself with looking at the bedsheets as she settles in easily by his side. His heart is racing so fast and his cheeks are flushing so hot, his brain cannot process any coherent thought at the moment.

So he simply lets her do the honors of taking his hands in hers.

He is speechless. He can’t think of any words to re-assert his cool air of bravado. He is a pool of mush next to her.

She holds his hands in hers. “Wow, I’ve never seen you not wear them.” She’s referring to his gloves. She’s staring so intently at the faint scars and gashes between his fingers, as if trying to piece together the battles he’s fought along the way to get here.

“Oh…” is all he can manage at his point.

She smiles up at him.

He tries not to think how she’s barely wearing only a thin fabric, even slightly sheer when the moonlight caresses her skin under its shine.

She is bloody distracting to his nerves.

“Here, let me have a look.” She leans closer.

_Oh my god._

Cloud instinctively stiffens. “W-What?” Great, now he’s stammering like a boy.

“Silly,” soft laughter bubbles from her lips, “let me have a look at your bandages.”

“Oh…okay.” He sputters. Manages to. But he doesn’t act. He doesn’t know what to do. Dammit, he’s frozen, literally.

“Cloud,” she pouts, putting her hands on her hips, “Lift up your shirt, or I’ll make you.”

He blushes furiously, looks away quickly. “Uh—” Hell, the thought of her touching his bare skin under the moonlight is too much for his brain to bear. He remains solid still, until he barely registers her fingers grazing the material of his shirt, and pulling it—

“L-Let me do it.” If Cloud turns any redder, he’s probably going to be a red canvas against the night shadows cast around them. Aerith’s bound to notice anytime. He hurriedly pulls his shirt off his head and tosses it on the blankets behind him.

He watches her stare at his hard muscles and thick layers of bandages around his skin.

His heart is pounding so hard and fast, he thinks his ribcage is going to burst. His ears are drumming with the sounds of his own heartbeat drowning him out.

Something glimmers in her eyes. He cannot identify it.

“Wow, I hate to say this, but Cid’s done a really bad job.” Aerith laughs.

Cloud rolls his eyes. “I think it was Barret. Or Vincent. Or maybe both of them. Can’t remember.” He inhales as she touches his bandages, and starts to unwind the white fabric around his chest.

“Well, you’re lucky I’m going to have a look at them.” Her eyes are focusing intently on her task, concentration pooling in emerald orbs. Cloud finds himself staring at her trying to remedy the situation around his wounds. There is such a tenderness to her eyes, and kindness, and sincerity, and earnestness, that he actually feels his heart breaking. He cannot apprehend just _why._

In mere seconds, she’s unwrapped the layers of bandages so he’s right in front of her, bare-chested under moonshine.

Cloud feels entirely exposed, vulnerable, naked to her eye. She’s watching his muscles contract under her touch as he breathes in her scent. He wants this moment to last an eternity with her.

She prods at his open wound. He hisses a bit. It elicits a small giggle from her. “Sorry about that.”

His gaze doesn’t leave her as he takes everything in – her chanting something under her breath and then green embers of light swarming around to wash his wounds in a balm of warmth. Cloud feels the whoosh of something gentle swirl with his pain, and as quick as it comes, it goes away. He stares down at his wounds – most of the nasty ones are subdued, left to look like faint scars that time will eventually heal. At least the blood is clearing up now.

“There, feel much better?” She meets his eyes.

He mutely nods. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s dumbstruck by her beauty under starlight.

“Good,” she softly whispers, picks up the bandages left lying around, and starts to wind their way around his bare skin. He wants to remember the look of tenderness in her eyes for a long time. There is so much gentleness to her touch that it saps away every ounce of energy left in him as he sits static and lets her do her magic.

As she nearly finishes her task, she accidentally brushes her elbow against his. He can’t help himself as if he’s being scorched – he inhales deeply.

She looks at him, eyes wide with concern, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, no.” He answers lamely.

It’s torture sitting next to her just in his trousers. He’s even forgotten to change into his pajamas earlier when the boys had left him to his own care in his room and not bothered to change him out of his dirty, bloodied clothes. Some comrades, he thinks sardonically.

She’s so damn close, he can smell her hair. It’s a mix of wildflowers and berries, and the scent of it sends his hair standing at the back of his neck. Cloud thinks it’s getting so _damn_ hot in the room, which doesn’t make sense because it’s a chilly night with a storm passing through.

Lightning flashes again, and he catches her wincing.

Instinctively, he reaches out to take her hand, “You’ll be fine.”

Thunder strikes.

This time, she doesn’t shut her eyes nor ears. She looks steadily at him, and her breaths come quick and shaky.

He looks at her, “You don’t like storms nor skies much, do you?”

She shakes her head, wrapping the last length of his bandages carefully tight so they don’t slip. She pats his chest as she finishes her job, a small triumphant smile on her lips as she eyes the bandages. “There. Finished.”

Cloud looks down at the white bandages. Yep, a much better job than the boys will ever do.

“…Thanks.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

She returns his laconic syllable with a bright smile.

Now why does she have to go look so arresting under the moonlight?

“Time for bed, Mister Merc.” Her smile doesn’t falter. “Nothing a good night’s rest can’t cure.”

“What about you?” The question slips out of his mouth before he can’t help it.

She stares forlornly at the window of his room. The rain doesn’t stop pelting – in fact, it’s getting heavier. The storm’s going to be knocking on windowpanes all night.

Cloud doesn’t miss the look of melancholy that passes so fleetingly on her face. But it’s gone the instance she looks at him with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Thunder strikes and she jumps in his bed. He instinctively reaches out a hand to steady her by her shoulders.

“You don’t look fine.” He cocks his head to the side, eyeing her carefully. “Honestly, Aerith, what were you going to do if I wasn’t going to open the door?”

She hesitates, “I don’t know…Sleep in Yuffie’s room?”

Cloud tries not to snort. “You’ll rather tolerate that girl’s snoring than the thunder?”

Aerith swats his shoulder lightly, careful not to touch his wounds, “Hey, don’t let Yuffie hear that.” A giggle escapes her lips.

Cloud looks sideways, avoiding her eyes so she doesn’t notice a smile gracing his lips. He likes hearing her laugh – he’ll never tire of that sound.

“Here, I’ll tuck you into bed,” she teases him endlessly, “and then you can finally sleep in peace.”

He rolls his eyes, “I can do that myself.” She can be really bossy sometimes, he thinks silently. He wonders why he doesn’t actually mind a bit.

She’s already pulling the blankets over him before he can refuse.

“Aerith,” he warns.

“C’mon Cloud, bedtime.”

“I’m not a kid.” He shoots her a deadpan look.

“Oh, really? How often I forget.” She giggles, and he tries his best not to smile. She’s lifted the blankets and is fluffing it to make it more comfortable.

Cloud thinks of Aerith, being scared and alone and sleep-deprived in her own room. The storm is cruel tonight, mightily harsh. He doubts she’s going to have a minute’s worth of rest.

“You…sure you’re going to be okay?” He already knows the answer, _no._ But she’s going to smile and pretend like he’s being silly worrying for her again, and she’s going to drive him nuts one of these days with her trying to put everyone around her at ease. Why is she always putting everyone else but herself first? Sometimes she drives him to the brink of exasperation, Cloud thinks.

“Yep, now be quiet and sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” She presses a palm against his bare shoulder to signal him to lie down on the bed.

He refuses to budge.

She pouts. “Cloud…” She pulls a face, then stands up.

He takes pains not to stare at her. She is gorgeous when bathed in moonlight.

 _Only when in moonlight? C’mon…_ A voice inside him teases. He shuts it down.

And before he knows what _the hell_ he’s thinking, before he can think through possible regrets and what-if scenarios in case he screws something up, he’s gone to snatch her wrist in his hand.

She stares at him with questioning eyes.

His throat is dry. He can barely speak, so it comes out a whisper.

“You…can stay here,” he swallows, “if you like, I mean.”

So much for the bravado act. He wants to applaud himself on the back sarcastically.

His cheeks burn.

_What the hell did I just say._

She looks as surprised as he is. She stands rooted to the ground, and he’s still got his hand around hers, not letting go. She doesn’t push him away, either.

Her eyes soften, “Here… with you?”

He dumbly nods. He can’t trust himself to speak, not yet.

“You’ll…let me?” She asks so quietly, but he hears it, anyway.

An ache rises in his chest and blooms there.

She looks so vulnerable and small in that dark room, wearing just mere fabric of white. She looks like snow in a summer’s day.

“Well…I am your bodyguard,” he shrugs his shoulders, beginning to regain some of his composure that he’s lost, “Even if it means protecting you from a…storm.”

“Hey,” she lightly punches his shoulder, “storms are scary.”

He doesn’t tease her back. He knows how much she’s afraid of them. “I know.” He says seriously.

Their eyes meet halfway. He lets his hand drops to his side, suddenly shy.

He hears her plop down next to him on the bed, and his heart scatters goo into his knees once more. He is grateful he is sitting down, if not he’ll surely trip and fall.

“Thanks, Cloud,” she says, sincerity glimmering in her eyes, “I mean it.”

“Hey…I do charge.” He tries to lighten up the mood, running a hand through his hair.

She giggles. “Let’s make it two dates, then?”

He looks away, pretending to scoff. His composure fails him miserably and he ends up with a hint of a smile threatening to betray him.

_Not such a bad idea…_

He aborts the thought process, then shrugs. “I don’t really have a preference.”

“Ooh, so you do want two dates.” She is merciless.

…And god, why is she so close to him?

Something screams at him to move away, but she’s got a spell all of her own, and she’s rooted him to the spot. She’s an enchantress, he’s sure of it.

“Here,” she’s pressing her palm to his shoulder again, coercing him to lie down, “I mean it when I say you need to rest. Don’t you dare waste all my efforts wrapping the bandages around you, okay, Cloud?”

 _She’s so bossy…_ He thinks, with a silly smile plastered on his face as he shuffles into the blankets she’s now fluffed over his body. Something warm seeps into his heart and stays there as she tucks him in, pulling the blankets up so it reaches his neck.

He’s cocooned in blankets, and he’s fully aware she’s watching him sleep.

“Close your eyes.” She runs fingers down his spikey hair, a gesture so soothing that he is nearly lulled into a trace – a moment of hypnosis where he sees only peace and serenity.

Cloud looks up at her.

“I’ll be right here.” She answers him, almost as if she’s read his mind.

Cloud nods, imperceptibly, then turns on his side so he’s no longer facing her (he can’t bear to watch her any more distract him in the moonlight. She’s too bloody enchanting). He stares at the bedroom walls on the other side, catches her shadow, and for the first time in a long time, when his eyelids feel heavy, there is a sense of comfort cloaking his chest in warmth.

He closes his eyes, and falls asleep nearly instantly as she runs delicate fingers through the tendrils of his hair.

“Sleep tight, Cloud.”

* * *

He wakes up with another roar of thunder and turns on his side, wondering how Aerith’s holding up.

His eyes instantly soften, and he finds himself instinctively moving away from her like every inch a gentleman he tries to be.

She’s fallen asleep next to him.

It’s a tiny bed, not even a double bed, but she’s managed to squeeze herself comfortably in a fetal position by his side and succumb to slumber.

Cloud looks out of the window. Figures…the storm’s letting up. But still not quite.

He turns on his side so he can watch her fully, and blatantly stares. He knows she’s soundly asleep so there’s no point really wasting this opportunity.

He watches the way the moonlight encircles her face, tracing the outline of her white slip dress, and the lines of her delicate, ivory skin.

His heart catches in his throat. He momentarily forgets what it’s like to breathe.

Here, under the dance of starlight embracing her petite body and face, she is…devastatingly _beautiful._

There are no other words to describe the exact nuances of her loveliness. So Cloud finds himself simply lifting a finger, yearning so much to trace the outlines of her face.

Starlight illuminates her features, turning her akin to an angel.

Cloud finds himself embossing this moment into his memory, forever.

He’ll live up to a hundred and won’t forget this image of her, mesmerizing him into breathlessness.

The ache in his heart remains, and churns stronger than ever.

He finds himself touching her hair. She’s unbraided her hair before falling asleep, and her long tresses now cascade and rest against the bedsheets like waterfall.

He doesn’t think there’s any other woman in this world who can rival her beauty and her light. Even in sleep, she emits unbridled hope and sincerity. The way the soft rain outside sings with the sounds of her breaths as she sleeps… Cloud is completely enraptured; captivated.

Serenity is momentarily disrupted, when lightning flashes across the room. He catches her grimace even in sleep, and he’s instinctively tending to her. She’s left the blankets completely to him while she sleeps in the chilly night, and his heart aches from that selfless act.

 _And you call yourself a bodyguard…_ He chides himself.

He immediately pulls the blankets up to her neck, shrouding her in warmth. The covers are big enough for the both of them, thankfully.

She murmurs something in her sleep.

Thunder strikes.

She inches closer to him, shuffles forth, as if subconsciously searching for comfort.

He is there in a heartbeat.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s drawn himself closer to her, so much so that they’re lying on their sides with their noses almost touching.

In sleep, she seems to sense his presence. She doesn’t open her eyes.

“Cloud…” she says his name in a whisper.

“I’m here.” He answers, just as quietly. He doesn’t want to wake her.

She reaches out a soft hand to graze his waist. She’s shivering. From her inward fear for storms, or the cold, he doesn’t know. But he feels all at once so protective of her, he knows he’s about to explode if he doesn’t do anything to make her feel warm.

He doesn’t pull away from her touch; lets her hand rest on him.

(He’s drawn to her like moth to a flame.)

He inches forth, so close, he’s aware their foreheads are almost touching.

And then he’s instantly static, self-doubt and uncertainty clouding his judgement.

Aerith mumbles something in her sleep. He smiles in spite of his nervousness.

And then she meets him halfway, as if reading his thoughts.

She shuffles closer under the blankets, towards his warmth.

Their foreheads touch. He inhales.

She snakes a subconscious arm around his waist. He sees stars in his vision – sees an angel, too.

And then she’s nestled her forehead against his bare chest, still fast asleep.

Cloud’s breathing so fast and hard, he’s desperate not to wake her by some physical fault of his own because he can barely calm himself down. His thoughts are racing like electricity, and all he knows is that he can smell her shampoo, smell her, and every fiber of her being so close to him is sending his senses into alarm.

He doesn’t move, as if doing so will shatter the moment.

Lightning. Thunder.

She moves restlessly, and he’s instantly encircled a protective arm around her small waist, drawing her closer.

She responds, and simply curls deeper into his arms.

They stay like these for long seconds, and then minutes.

Cloud doesn’t move an inch. He savors the moment where he’s holding her, so much so that he doesn’t remember another moment where he feels so at ease and at peace.

She fits like… she belongs there, right in his arms.

Like second skin.

In spite of his boyish awkwardness around her, Cloud submits to a small smile as he hears her elicit a soft snore. Impulsively, he brushes his lips against the softness of her hair. (She really should wear her hair down more often, he thinks.) He fastens his arms around her and draws her wholly into his embrace.

She doesn’t pull away.

Above them, the storm slowly but gently passes.

Cloud breathes – smells an angel, and is pretty sure before he falls asleep with her in his arms, he hears her whispering to him.

“Good night, Cloud.”

In his subconsciousness, he feels her caressing his waist.

He smiles, honestly, boyishly, making no effort this time to mask it.

“’Night, Aerith.” He murmurs into her hair, his arms draped around her waist.

He sincerely hopes there will be more stormy nights in future… if they end up bringing her to his room every night.

For the first time, Cloud dreams of peace. Of home. Of yellow lilies and wildflowers.

He dreams of a future, with **_her._**

**FIN**

* * *

A/n:

Let it storm every friggin’ night then!!!! (Yikes – throws confetti) ok I know I know maybe I should’ve have gotten them to spoon but at least they got to cuddle in bed!! 

Scream with me how much you love them.

Review/comment to make my day ; ) You know you wanna.

Myst-san


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